


Conversations

by hufflepuffsquee



Series: Vox Machina: Inquisition [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Crossover, Vox Machina: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:45:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7187585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepuffsquee/pseuds/hufflepuffsquee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conversations had between members of Vox Machina and the Inquisition as they make their way toward Haven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations

“So you do magic?”

Kerah glances at Grog, amused smile in place. He’d nearly sprinted to take point with her once they’d set off on the road back to Haven and had immediately started with a question.

“I can.”

“Fire magic.”

“Mostly.”

He grins, showing a fair number of cracked or missing teeth.

“The staff doesn’t just shoot fire, you know.” She says, laughing a little at his enthusiasm.

“No?”

She takes it off of her back and shows him the end of it, sharpened to a wicked point.

“It stabs.”

“You could make demon kebobs with that thing.” He laughs.

“I can and have! Cassandra says it’s ‘unbecoming of me to brandish them about’ when I do, but I think it’s funny.”

“Do you ever see how far you can chuck ‘em?”

“Got one about twenty feet once!”

“You’ve got to let me try it.”

She nods, leaning back a little to observe his axe.

“You know, the smith at Haven might be able to get you a spiked pummel for that.”

“That would be amazing.” He nods. “D’you know it does necrotic damage?”

“Seriously?” She blinks, impressed. “Handy. Unless you’re against undead.”

“You seen much undead?”

“Not yet,” Kerah shakes her head. “I almost hope we do. I’ve heard they burn well.”

“Oh,” Grog nods and laughs, “They do.”

“I like your vitaar, by the way.”

“My…. What?” His brow furrows.

Kerah raises an eyebrow, wondering if his confusion comes from his obvious simplicity (observed in a purely factual way, she has nothing against it) or if they have a different word for it where he comes from.

“The paint.” She runs her fingers along her forehead, gesturing on herself where the stripes of black decorate Grog’s face.

“Oh, that’s not paint. That’s tattoos.”

“Holy shit.” She grins. “Much more impressive than vitaar.”

“Is that what yours is? Vee…. Whatever?”

“Yup. A special face paint made by the qunari. Touch it.”

She slows her pace and allows Grog to run a finger over the paint.

“Tap it.”

He does so, then again, and again as he realizes what she’s showing him.

“How d’you make it all hard like that? It’s like armor!”

“Secret of the Qun.” She winks, “And they’d be so mad if they knew I had the secret.”

“Why’s that?”

“I ran away. Didn’t like life there, to make the story short.”

“They don’t like that?”

“Nope. To them my ‘soul is dust’. Which, whatever. Better that than life with them.”

“I got kicked outta my herd.” He says, “Sorta similar. I think. Maybe.”

“Got kicked out?”

“And almost killed.”

“What did you do to piss off a herd of barbarians? I know a little of them, but I understand they tend to stick together.”

“Didn’t kill a gnome. Turns out it was Papa Wilhand. I mean…” He looks a little sheepish at having used the phrase. “Uh… My buddy Pike’s great great grandpa. I didn’t wanna kill him, he wasn’t doing nothing.”

“Good on you.” She glances back to Pike. “So that’s how you know her?”

“She fixed me up. She’s good at fixing people. I mean. I _died_ a little bit ago and she fixed it.”

Kerah stares at him, mouth agape.

“You mean you were unconscious.”

“Oh, no.” He’s absolutely serious as he walks. “I was dead.”

“There’s… a story here.”

“Well, yeah. I got this possessed sword or somethin’. It talked to me, right? Like actually talked. And made me stronger which was. Incredibly cool. But it was bad? Pike says it ate my soul and she had to get it back.”

He says it incredibly casually and Kerah can’t help but be more than a little impressed by his absolute (apparent) acceptance of what had happened.

“I take it the sword in question is no longer around.”

“Fuck no.” His face twists up into a disgusted expression. “It was cool, but I mean. That shit was _evil._ I might not be smart, but I’m not gonna keep using something evil.”

“Even though it was… How did you put it… ‘Incredibly cool’?”

“Well… I sort of wanted to keep it. At first. But Pike…” Ha pauses, like he’s searching for words. “Talked me out of it.”

“She gave you one look and you couldn’t just not listen to her.” Kerah says, already having a feeling about the sort of person Pike was.

“Uh… Yeah.” Grog gives a sheepish shrug as the pair continues to walk, conversation moving elsewhere.

\-------------

“I am curious,” Cassandra says, slowing her pace so that Percy is in step with her. “The name you gave seems as though it belongs to a noble family, though I don’t believe I have heard of them. Are they very prominent?”

Percy blinks, glancing at her with a polite but guarded expression. “Why do you ask?”

“I come from a long line of nobility in Nevarra. You tend to hear of other families,” She waves a hand, “I was merely wondering if there could be some connection somewhere.”

“Ah.” Percy nods, understanding that much. His parents had always told them that you never knew what connections could get you or who you might have them with. “I’m afraid my family mainly had dealings in Tal’dorei. At present, our dealings are localized in Whitestone due to circumstances beyond our control.”

Now, he decides, is not the time to tell and extremely guarded woman the entirety of the story with the Briarwoods. Members of the Inquisition need not know that much about him so immediately.

“And your family?” He prods, shifting the focus of the conversation.

She winces for a moment and sighs.

“I come from the Pentaghast line, and I am seventy-eighth in line for a throne I have no interest in. I opted to become a Seeker of Truth rather than pursue a career in nobility.”

“A wise choice, it seems.” He says, “You handle yourself well.”

“As do you, with… Whatever that is. How does that contraption work?” Cassandra nods to where Bad News is strapped to his back. “I have never seen its like, is it operated by magic?”

“No,” He replies, opening the pouch at his waist to remove a bullet and his powder bag, holding the latter up first. “In short, it is a localized explosion. I’ve read that there is a substance similar to this in Par Vollen, the Qun refer it as ‘gaatlok’. This is simply referred to as black powder. It is placed in gun before a bullet.” He pauses to hold the round in question. “A device within the barrel ignites the powder, it explodes, and the bullet is launched. It’s… a bit more complex, really, but that is the general idea of how it works.”

Cassandra’s eyebrows are high.

“ _That_ was the simplified version?”

He laughs and gives a shrug.

“Perhaps when we have the time I could stop and show you on my handgun.”

“You have another?”

Percy pulls it from his belt and allows her to look before returning it.

“Smaller. Can carry four bullets as opposed to just one. It does less damage, but it’s still powerful.”

“The large one, the one you killed the Pride demon with. It can only shoot once?”

“Until I reload it with powder and another bullet, yes.” Percy nods.

“Are they dangerous to you?”

Percy laughs a little and Cassandra arches one of her eyebrows.

“Yes, they… Ah, they are. There is always the chance of a misfire or the gun simply… exploding due to that misfire. They have misfired a few times, but I’ve been quick enough to notice and clear them out so far without any unnecessary damage.”

“I believe I will remain content with my sword and shield.” She replies, sounding a bit confused.

“Never been much good with a sword.” Percy winces at the memory of how awkward blades felt in his hands. “I’ve used them, mind, but it largely comprised of me screaming while slashing at something so large it was quite literally impossible for me to miss the creature in question.”

“Would you like assistance in learning?”

“I’ll… politely decline. I’m not one for blades.” Percy shrugs awkwardly. “You mentioned being a Seeker of Truth. I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the order.”

“You know of the Templars?”

“Vaguely, and learning more the longer I am here. The army of the Chantry, correct?”

“Yes. That is their definition, though their primary purpose is to keep the mages in check.”

Percy nods, keeping his comment about how frankly barbaric that sounded to himself. Come to think of it, barbarians seemed to have a better outlook on magic than some people here seemed to.

“The Seekers operate as a check system to the Templars. We answer directly to the Divine herself and investigate corruption in the Chantry. We have abilities similar to the Templars, though we do not use lyrium to obtain them.”

“Abilities?”

“In short, manipulation of the lyrium in the blood of mages or Templars. In addition, we cannot be possessed and our minds cannot be taken under another’s control.”

“Useful.” He says, nodding, “How, precisely, does that work?”

They continue on as she begins attempting to explain.

\-------------

“So,” Keyleth tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear as she speaks  after walking a while in comfortable silence. “You’re a spellcaster.”

“I am a mage, yes.” Solas nods. “As, it seems, are you.”

“I… Yes. I’m a druid of the Ashari.”

“These, I must admit, are terms I am unfamiliar with.”

“Oh!” She blinks, remembering that Thedas doesn’t have all of the same groups. “Well… Druids are nomadic peoples who specialize in magics themed in nature.”

“And… Ashari?”

“Druids who live in four tribes, each themed to an element, who guard places where the Elemental Planes bleed into our own.”

“Similar to the Fade, I suppose.” Solas sounds thoughtful. “I have never seen such a place, I imagine it is fascinating.”

“That’s… One way to describe them, yes.” Keyleth gives him a somewhat nervous smile. “Another is ‘terrifying’. That’s the more common one.”

“Have you visited these other planes?”

“One of them. The plane of fire. It was… Well, rather what you’d expect. “

“And how did you find your way there, if I may ask?”

“It was part of a rite of passage. My AraMente.”

“Ah.” Solas nods. “It sounds somewhat similar to a Harrowing of a Circle, though I’ve not been through one.”

“What is it?”

Solas snorts, his countenance growing notably darker.

“It is an abhorrent practice. Mages, when the Templars decide they are worthy, are forced to enter the Fade in a dream state. There, they are tempted by a demon. They must either fight off the demon’s attempt at possession or fail and be killed by the Templars.”

“That’s horrible!” Keyleth stares at him, heart in her throat.

“I feel similarly.”

“What was yours like?”

Solas looks at her, brows high.

“I never experienced one. I have never –and _will_ never- belong to a circle. I am an apostate.”

“Oh.” Keyleth’s voice is soft. “I don’t understand all of how magic is seen here, really.”

“It is complex and barbaric. Let us move on to more pleasant subjects.” He gestures to your staff. “Is your staff attuned to an element in particular, or does it merely focus your energies?”

“A focus. I crafted it myself before setting out on my AraMente, under the guidance of my father. And yours? I noticed it looked like it was emitting ice.”

“That it was. The metals it was crafted with are more conductive of ice magics, thus making my ordinary arcane blasts powered with ice. Metals and other materials used in the crafting of a mage’s staff here in Thedas have these effects. The Herald’s is crafted of a metal that affords her damage with fire on basic spells.”

“And what about other spells? How are they affected?”

“They are not. Should I wish to unleash a ball of fire from this staff, it would react as though I casted it from any other, including one such as The Herald’s.”

“What if you used mine?”

Solas pauses, brow furrowing.

“I’m not certain. Perhaps they would simply be ordinary arcane blasts. Should you feel comfortable, I could attempt such a thing at a later time.”

“I… Yes, alright.”

“What other magics are practiced by your people?” Solas asks, and Keyleth notices he seems genuinely intrigued.

“Well… We can manipulate the elements. I have several spells that channel wind or water or earth.”

“I imagine they are more advanced than some we have.”

“Maybe. I would have to familiarize myself with what gets taught here.”

“I am afraid I’m not the best to ask. I am a self-taught mage, and my magic is largely specialized in the Fade rather than an element or specific area of study. Not very common.”

“I’d like to see some of them, and maybe you could teach me. If that’s possible.”

“Perhaps it is.” Solas gave her a smile. “I noticed when we approached you in the city that you had made yourself appear as a bear.”

“Oh, not just appear.” Keyleth shakes her head a bit. “I was a bear.”

“You… Turned into a bear?!” He sounds genuinely impressed.

“Yes. I can turn into a lot of different beast shapes. I can turn other things, too.”

“Fascinating!” Solas exclaimes. “I have theorized that such things might be possible, but I’ve never attempted it for fear of casting something irreversible. Tell me, how is it done?”

Keyleth feels her face grow a little hot under the intense attention Solas seems to have in her abilities, and her chest grows warm with pride at his interest. As they walk, she describes her magic as best she can.

\-------------

“Do you think we can trust them?” Vax murmurs, eyes roaming over the members of the Inquisition.

“I like to hope so, but we’ve been let down a few too many times.” Vex sighs, eyes on the elf talking to Keyleth. “That one worries me. I can’t place it.”

“Really?” Vax seems surprised. “Kiki seems to like him just fine.”

“She’s not the most perceptive among us, Vax. She’s got a good heart, but it’s not always to her advantage. Something about him doesn’t quite sit right but I’m not sure what. I want to keep an eye on him.”

“Fair enough.” Vax concedes, then nods up to the warrior walking with Percy. “Percival seems to be getting on alright with her, despite her… attitude.”

“I think she’s just as cautious as we are.” Vex shrugs. “She’s rough, but I don’t think she’ll be trouble.”

“And we’re more than enough for her if she is.”

“You read my mind, brother.”

He grins.

“You say that like it’s difficult.”

Vex elbows him.

“What about that other elf we picked up?”

“Oh, the ‘ugh elves’ one?” Vax has a wry grin in place now. “She’s a bit all over, isn’t she?”

Vex hums, recalling how Sera hadn’t found a place in line so much as wandered through it and, at times, all around it. At present,  she was behind Kerah.

“Seems alright. Her groups sounds like the Theives’ Guild but-”

“More benevolent. My thoughts exactly.”

They’d heard her describing the Red Jennies to Kerah earlier, obviously unperturbed by the idea the others might hear her.

“She’s got eyes on Kerah.” Vex notes, nodding to her.

“No wonder she’s ended up where she has.”

“Can you really blame her?” Vex says, one corner of her mouth quirking up.

Vax makes a face.

“What?”

“It’s a bit weird, hearing my sister talk like that.”

“What, like it’s not weird for me when we go see Gilmore?” Vex shoves him a little, and he bumps into her in retaliation.

“Grog has eyes for her, too.” Vax is obviously refusing to engage in conversation about Gilmore. Vex decides, this time, to drop it.

“What do you think of her?”

“What, do you mean am I going to try for-”

“No, you twit.” Vex rolls her eyes. “Can we trust her?”

“I feel like she’s the type of person we’d be able to spot a lie from. She’s sincere with us.”

Vex nods, glancing over her shoulder. “Just leaves the dwarf. For those with us now, at least.”

“He seems alright.” Vax shrugs.

Vex nods in agreement. “Scanlan’s taken with him. If I heard their conversation right, he’s that author Scanlan likes.”

“What, seriously?”

“He’s being a bit of a fanboy.”

“God, if they get along then we’re all in trouble.”

\-------------

“I apologize, but I’m not certain I caught your name quite right earlier.” Scanlan says to the dwarf next to him.

“Varric Tethras, at your service.” Varric nods to him amiably.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Varric.” Pike says, wondering why the name sounds somewhat familiar. It’s then that she notices Scanlan.

His jaw has dropped and his pace slowed to a near stop. Realizing that Varric has continued on, Scanlan jogs back to his side.

“I’m sorry, _the_ Varric Tethras? The-”

“Author, yeah.” Varric laughs. “Alright, which series did you read? That tells me a lot about a fan.”

“All of them.”

“What?”

“All of them.”

“Even the bad ones?”

“I love the bad ones.” Scanlan grins, and Pike recognizes what Vax has dubbed as Scanlan’s ‘shit eating grin’.

“Oh sweet Maker.” Varric mutters, expression still bemused.

“I do a bit of writing myself, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Songs, mainly. Some limericks, when I’ve the time.”

“So you’re… What? Some kind of minstrel?”

“Oh, no. I’m a bard.”

Varric’s eyebrow raises.

“See… Around here, Orlais especially, ‘bard’ usually means ‘deadly’.”

“It does for me, as well. Some call me Kingslayer.”

Varric looks to Pike, who shrugs.

“He… actually did kill a king. And a great many other brave deeds. He’s… very talented.”

“So explain to me how a bard works where you come from.”

“Simply put, I sing and that’s when the magic happens.”

Varric closes his eyes and takes in a breath.

“He really does mean that literally.” Pike’s tone is almost apologetic.

“What, seriously? He’s a mage who does his thing by singing?”

“Sort of.” Pike nods.

“My spells are powered through what I say or sing.”

“And what kind of spells are those?”

“Plenty of things.” Scanlan waves a hand. “Seducing, flattering, kingslaying.”

Varric laughs almost in spite of himself.

“So this is the type who reads my books in Tal’Dorei, huh?”

Scanlan shrugs.

“You’ll have to show me how your… whatever it is you do works. Sounds… interesting.”

“I doubt they work as well as that crossbow. Where on Earth did you find it?” Pike says, genuinely intrigued by the frankly massive weapon.

“Bianca? That’s my secret. There’s not anything else like her.”

“Its name is Bianca?” Scanlan is wondering if he should re-name the Mythcarver. “Who’s she?”

“Just as much of a mystery, so far as you’re concerned.” Varric says.

“So a special lady, then. Any tips for a bachelor?” Scanlan asks, absolutely unashamed.

Varric glances between Scanlan and Pike, who has pinched the bridge of her nose. He raises his hands. “This seems out of my depth.”

“Oh, please!” Scanlan cajoles. “You write such romances and dashing heros, Sir Tethras. Surely you have some advice to give a poor gnome in the ways of winning the heart of a lady.”

“Only if you were a character in one of my books, Crooner.”

“Crooner?” Scanlan’s face lights up.

“The nickname is a work in progress. We’ll see if it sticks.”

“Is that something you do?” Pike asks, smiling a little. “Nicknames?”

“Call it a habit.”

“You needn’t think of one for Pike. Simply refer to her as an angel, we all do.”

“Scanlan, you’re…” There’s a pause while Pike considers, then looks startled. “Almost all of you have, haven’t you, at some point?”

“Well, you do keep bringing us back from the brink of death.”

“So, you’re the healer, then?” Varric asks Pike directly.

“I… well… yes. I’m a cleric.”

Varric nods. “Stick close. We always need a healer.”

“Everyone seems to.” Pike says humbly. “How did you come by traveling with the Herald, if I may ask?”

Varric snorts.

“The Seeker –that’s Cassandra up there with the shield- arrested me.”

“What on Earth for?” Pike sounds shocked.

“It’s… I knew a guy they were looking for. She thought I could help them find him. Which I couldn’t and can’t, for the better. He doesn’t need dragged into this.”

“You mean Hawke.” Scanlan says.

Varric closes his eyes.

“Yes. I mean Hawke.”

“Oh! From the book!” Pike says. “Scanlan told me. It’s… Is it really true?”

“Every bit,” Varric nods. “So. What’s the story behind… What are you all called?”

“Vox Machina.” Scanlan says before starting to explain how they’d all found each other, Varric nodding and rubbing his chin thoughtfully throughout the various tales he was told as they walked on.


End file.
